


Above and Below

by Anneofnyc



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Mental Health Issues, Psychosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anneofnyc/pseuds/Anneofnyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You promised… Matt you promised not to do that anymore.” </p><p>“What?! Foggy…” he let out a frustrated growl and jumped out from the couch. “I never promised that. I told you this isn’t something I’m going to just quit. We talked about this!”</p><p>“Matt how many nights you’ve been out there?”</p><p>“Every night this week.” He answered distractedly. Foggy kept forgetting how his senses worked. He couldn’t listen to everything at once, damn it.</p><p>[Written for the 2015 Daredevil Secret Santa Fic Exchange]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Above and Below

**Author's Note:**

  * For [R_Gunns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Gunns/gifts).



 

 

Matt was feeling keyed up. This low hum of energy. Fists held loosely but ready. Feet apart and tense as he let himself immerse in the sounds, vibrations, air changes and smells of the city. Several times he’d focussed onto a single location and sound, only to realise that they were of benign nature and continued to listen.

It was hard. Not an instinct or talent. He’d had years of practice. Of blood, sweat and toil. Literally. He’d gotten really good. Not good enough to catch everything. Sometimes the guilt was crushing. Reaching just a minute too late to prevent a mugging or hearing the news next day about a rape and murder just some blocks away from where he was.

Multi tasking was a myth. Your brain can only devote its resources usefully to one task. So yeah, sometimes he missed things because he heard them physically but it didn’t register. Sometimes it was the other was around. He got distracted and paid the price. He paid it gladly though. He’d never felt more cleansed or peaceful as when he’d bear the pain of not having done enough. The penance and the focus it provided was something he craved. A sort of an addiction in a way.

Foggy called him a glutton for punishment. He’d thought worse about himself.

He tried though. Even though his best friend always sounded so worried these days. And Karen. Who had seemed to flare bright with the same rage that he felt. Who seemed to accept his vigilante identity without a blink. Even she seemed worn out these days. The days when he moved slowly. Talked less. Had bruises and cuts he couldn’t hide.

They worried. And Matt felt guilty about that too. He’d tried reassuring them. He wasn’t stupid. He’d been training since a kid. He had enhanced senses. He wasn’t a regular blind guy. Somehow that always ended up making them sigh more. More of ‘take care of yourself’ and ‘you can talk with us’. Maybe that’s what family did. Worried more than strictly necessary. God knows the stuff that Karen sometimes does makes him want hold her tight and hide her away. It was especially hard with Foggy. Foggy with his big heart and endless patience. Foggy with his open arms and compassion. It was hard to know that he hurt Foggy every time he went out as the daredevil. He usually covered his worry with humour and snark but it fooled no one.

Foggy had been more worried lately. Everything had been weird lately. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what exactly, but something was different. The way Karen smiled but also took long shaky breaths. The gunpowder and asphalt smell sometimes. How Foggy seemed to be nice and everything… just not completely sincere somehow. He’d try to bury his head into work and try to ignore it. But then his ears always picked out the whispered phone calls that Karen made when she thought they were too occupied to notice. He once heard them both talking about him when he was just entering the office. They’d ceased immediately ofcourse. But it felt like acid was climbing up his throat. He’d declined the coffee that day when Karen offered. So yeah, no Fisk but nothing good either.

Worst was when Father Lantom had casually asked about their office and Foggy. Too casually. The latte had seemed to curdle inside his stomach. He hadn’t gone back since.

Maybe it was just him being jittery. All that fear, anger and pain… and now suddenly nothing. Especially the time he thought he’d lost his only family. When Foggy had walked away and the days had blurred into each other as he desperately tried to keep everything together until he got Fisk squared off. The immense pressure of the promise he’d made to Karen to protect her and that everything would be okay. The need to avenge the deaths of good people. And he knew so few. Made sense that he’s having trouble levelling off.

He just needed to keep moving. Give the devil inside his due. Let his anger have an outlet of street justice.

And so here he was on the rooftop, breathing in and out steadily as the noises crowded him. He hadn’t heard anything so far. It could be because he got distracted in the middle by… something. But he was back to it now. Focused.

 

Which is why he startled badly enough to almost slip off the ledge as a hand landed on his shoulder. It was only his honed reflexes that prevented Foggy from being punched as they both backed away in alarm.

“Foggy! What are y- I could have hurt you!” he growled.

“Sorry, sorry… it’s just. You were zoned out man… you didn’t hear me calling.” Matt nodded and then frowned.

“Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“N- okay, yeah, yeah. But I need you to come to your apartment. Not here.”

“Alright. Is it about the case? Is Karen in trouble?”

“No, Karen is not in trouble. But there is a problem. Come on Matt.”

Foggy had had the insight to bring a change of clothes so they both could walk back together. It wasn’t that far. He didn’t clarify what the problem was though, not yet. He did talk, about the case and why they were so totally winning this one because he could prove the prosecution’s main witness to be unreliable and everything else circumstantial.

At first he groaned inwardly. Maybe this was another ‘intervention’. Karen and Foggy seemed to have teamed up and taken up the job of staging interventions often for Matt. That mostly meant dragging him out of office and staying up late drinking, eating spicy food, and Netflix. It also meant Matt couldn’t go out that night. It wasn’t necessarily bad. It definitely made him feel loved and it was nice to actually sleep once in a while. But it also made his insides twist fiercely. The devil trying to claw out. There was no running away from his purpose and he was back to his patrol the next night, doing some extra hours to make up for the indulgence. It had been quite a while since they’ve tried to give daredevil a break, so maybe it was that.

But the moment they reached his apartment, he realised this was not another night in. And there was no problem with the case. It was something else. He could smell bitter fear coming out of Foggy’s pores. And a whiff of gunpowder and asphalt as his apartment door opened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey Matt.”Karen sounded nervous as she opened the door to them.  

They both had keys to his apartment. They agreed sometime back because… because they could help him out when he needed a little patching up after a rough night. Yeah, yeah that was the reason.

“Hey. What- what’s going on?” he heard Karen leave a very low groan.

“Let’s sit first.”

“Alright.”Matt sat and heard them fidget for a full minute before Foggy spoke.

“Matt I- we’re a little concerned about you.”

“What about?” a car ran a red light. The traffic was light, so nothing happened. Thank God.

“We just think that you… ugh okay, I found you on the roof again.” Mrs. Dinah in the next building, 3rd floor was crying again.

“Yeah, well. Where else would I be at night, Foggy.” she was cleaning something and crying. The kitchen sink.

“You promised… Matt you promised not to do that anymore.” she was bruised and had broken ribs possibly. She’d been h- wait…

“What?! Foggy…” he let out a frustrated growl and jumped out from the couch.“I never promised that. I told you this isn’t something I’m going to just quit. We talked about this!” Foggy got up after him, hovering in front of him.

“Matt how many nights you’ve been out there?” Mrs. Dinah was sobbing and yelling now. And someone was yelling back. Her husband.

“Every night this week.” He answered distractedly. Foggy kept forgetting how his senses worked. He couldn’t listen to everything at once, damn it. It needed focus and attention and… the guy just backhanded her. She landed back on the bed but she’d been hit hard.Shit.

“This week? How many- Matt!”

“Ugh- what Foggy? I need to go. So would you please come out with whatever it is you wanted to say. I don’t have time for this.” He was being an asshole, he knew. But seriously Foggy had the worst timing.

“Where do you need to go Matt?” Karen this time.

“Where… you know where and you know I can’t just tell you exactly. It’s not like I plan to be at places.” And what the fuck Karen. The man had climbed on top of the frail, crying woman. He was punching her now. He couldn’t wait anymore, he had to intervene or she could very well end up dead.

“I have to go.” He started, shoving Foggy aside a little roughly as he tried to reach the staircase.

He hadn’t anticipated Foggy shoving back. He stumbled a little and bared his teeth at Foggy’s direction.

“What’s wrong with you? There’s a woman…” he trailed off in brittle aggravation as neither of them seem to understand the importance of what he was trying to do. The gravity of the situation. He let out a breath and tried again.

“I know you don’t agree with my methods, Foggy, but a woman is going to end up dead in a minute or less. So if you have a better idea I’d love to hear it but unfortunately it might be too late for her!” he punched the air, less for effect and more because the woman’s cries were lighting him on fire.

“Where is this woman?”

“3rd floor, above the drug store.”

“And you’ve been hearing her all week?”

“What? No… just now.” The man had stopped hitting her. He was lying next to her, exhausted as the woman kept crying, bleeding from her nose now. He was gearing up for another go and he couldn’t let it happen.

“Have you heard from the old d- the- um… Stick?”

“I told you Stick left and I have been honest about everything since that day. _Jesus_ , where is all this coming from? Are you not done punishing me? I’m trying alright? But you can’t just come here and check on me. I know what I’m doing.” He barked, feeling tendrils of anger pushing out of him.

“Matt.” Karen’s voice shook. “Matt, we are not punishing you. We are trying to help… you-”

Matt put his palm over her mouth silencing her. There was a heartbeat, the sound of breathing on the roof. Someone was standing near the rooftop access and listening to them. Someone who smelled like disinfectant and… and ozone.

“Quiet.” He motioned his other hand at Foggy.

“Shit.” Foggy muttered.

“It’s alright. Stay right here…I’m gonna check it out.” he whispered.

“Check what out? Matt, would you please listen to us.” Karen insisted. Annoying. He couldn’t take it anymore. He ran.

Up the stairs and bursting out the door. Hoping to catch the fucker by surprise. He knew who it was. There’d been cases of increased violence. Territorial fights in the back alleys and dirty streets. Someone had been instigating them. A new drug was being passed around. And now he was here.

“Matt! Matt! Wait, please wait!”

“Foggy!”

Both of his friends had followed and yelling behind him. Distracted him for a second. He reached the right corner adjacent to his door and found no one. “Fuck.” He was gone. Matt had lost him.

“Fuck.”

And then he remembered Mrs. Dinah. He cocked his head and tried to listen. Stilling his heart and blocking out his friends. But they wouldn’t relent.

“Matt please! There’s no one here, except us.” Foggy gulped, breathing harshly after his frantic dash behind him.

He couldn’t hear the woman. No crying. No beating. Nothing.

“No… no no no no no.” She couldn’t die. She couldn’t die. How could he let her die. He didn’t do anything. He just let Foggy and Karen distract him and now the poor woman was dead.

“Hey, hey…” Foggy caught his shoulders from behind. He whirled around to face him, everything inside him burning. The agony pulling at his muscles and sinew. He could only scream.

“How could you do that? I told you I could have saved her!”

Foggy was now backing away, trying to hold him off by his shoulders. Frightened. Matt almost sneered at the thought before he realised this wasn’t his foe. The man in front of him was his best friend. Foggy Nelson. He immediately stopped.

What was he doing? What was wrong with him?

 

 

 

 

Foggy could feel himself shaking. His back was to the wall and had nowhere to go. He’d been prepared to defend himself, fight off his own best friend. Oh, who was he kidding? The thought of hurting Matt was abhorrent. The same guy who had suddenly froze. All the frenetic energy and tight anger just gone. Eyes downcast and distraught.

“Matt… I’m coming near you.” Karen was slowly trying to approach Matt, her eyes red and cheeks shining with tears.

“I’m just going to touch your arm, alright?” Matt nodded slightly. Body eerily still and stuck in that attacking stance.

Karen slowly and expertly positioned herself in his personal space in non-threatening manner. She drew one of his hands to her face.

“Hey. It’s me. I’m right here.”

Matt touched her cheek and nose slightly. The touch awkward and firm.

“Karen?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“What’s- Karen, there was a w…” his voice broke, face crumpling, “A woman. I think-I think she died.”

Foggy straightened but didn’t move away from the wall he was leaning against. Afraid to break the quiet moment. Afraid of breaking Matt. Karen seemed to think the same way, as she rubbed his arms gently.

All three stayed on the roof for a while. A frozen tableau. The cold wind whipping snow around them, unnoticed.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Karen sat beside Matt on the couch while Foggy took the opposite chair. Matt licked his lips, tasting salt, keeping all his attention on the teacup in his hand, the warmth and the aroma.

“So.” Foggy cleared his throat, “Is there somebody other than Karen and me in the room Matt?”

The question was absurd. Absurd and completely ridiculous. And weirdly familiar. Why did it feel like an old friend? A very unwelcome shitty excuse for a friend, but just as familiar and old.

“No.” he chose the path of mildly belligerent honesty.

“Can you hear people talking who are not in this room?” Foggy sounded deliberate, rehearsed and not a little reluctant.

“There’s…You _know_ I do.” he answered, preventing himself from the automatic explanation. Why should he be apologetic every time and about everything. He couldn’t help his abilities, just as much he couldn’t his disability, his blindness.

Karen shook beside him and he rotated away from her. He pointedly kept the cup of tea down. He’d told them that he was suspect about it, but Karen had insisted. His house wasn’t safe anymore. The man on the roof, he’d found it and escaped. There was no telling how long he’d known about this place and identity. No telling what else he had missed.

“What about Fisk?”

“He’s… he still has people outside. And I think… I think he has bugged the office.”

“Why would you think that?”

Matt shook his head, he knew Foggy would think he was being paranoid again. That’s why he hadn’t said anything yet. Only making sure to see if Foggy or Karen were being followed. If their houses were being watched. But turned out it was only him Fisk was interested in. He’d heard them. At night. Felt their eyes every time he went out. He’d tried his best not to tip them off that he knew. But it had become too dangerous now.

“I just know, alright? I wouldn’t lie to you about this Foggy.”

“We know you’re not lying, Matt.” he started as Karen spoke up from his side, “But you need help.” She was rubbing her thumb against her knuckles. There was a woman on the front street, holding on to her young daughter’s wrist, rubbing at the bruises on it with the same force.

“I don’t- Foggy?” Foggy sounded like… “You’re... upset.”

Foggy snorted, sounded congested, “Yeah no shit. Matt, I checked your cabinet. You haven’t been taking your medications.”

_Shit._

Okay. He was hoping he’d have solved the whole thing, start taking his medications, all before Foggy noticed.

“I um… I’m really sorry. I just thought I’d… Look, just give me a few days. I’m so close. I didn’t want to throw them away or tell you in case it tipped them off. It’s not that I stopped on my own. I know you don’t like that.” He felt terrible. Foggy had asked for one thing and he didn’t meet the terms. His daredevil problems were affecting his friends, like he’d been afraid of. The reason he’d kept it secret for so long.

“What happens in a few days? No, you know what, I don’t care. But, why would you stop taking them Matt?” Foggy’s anguish twisted something inside of him. His disappointment filling that space inside of him always ready to absorb guilt.

“They’d switched the drugs. With the new street drug. Making people attack each other. In the news. The news, Foggy. I would have taken them otherwise I swear I would have.” He stressed, frantic to make his friends understand he wasn’t doing this to hurt them. “But I can get him. I know I can. He’s been listening. At the office. And I knew. I’ve kept them in the dark. I’ve been giving them information. The wrong information. I’m close. I just need time.” He swallowed, his throat dry and tight.

“Okay, that’s enough Matt. You really need to take the meds for now. I’m gonna call Benton’s office, try and get an appointment tomorrow, alright?” Foggy sounded so mad.

“I can’t. Karen… Karen you believe me- don’t you? I’m not making this up. I’m not _making_ this up!” he turns to her, his heart falling and rising and shaking. He couldn’t do this alone. He needed them to trust him. “Karen please. You know what I did for you. You KNOW who I am. This isn't-this isn't…”

“Shhh, Matt… stop. I believe you, I believe you. It’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.” She was crying into his hair as he rocks himself along with her in her tight hug.

“I'm trying to protect you.” He's suddenly lost. 

Karen kisses his temple and lets him sway. The woman in the street was crushing the girl’s wrist. Old ships. Smell of clotted rotting blood. Rust and decay. Fast heartbeats. Silenced heartbeats. Pounding. Tearing holes inside of him. He clings to Karen, feeling bits of himself dissolve and shatter. Karen’s neck was stinking of gunpowder but he held on because she was his only anchor.

_Old ships. Gone. Gone._

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waking up was _hard_. It always was after taking Olanzepine. Especially since he took them after quite some time. A whole month, Foggy had said, showing him the pills he counted.

It didn’t feel like waking up at all, actually. Thoughts would attempt a slow trudge up a steep slope and then slide away into nothingness. Without a beginning or resolution. Sound and smell would be there. Present but out of grasp. Every movement and breath would be an unexpected chill, sharpness or edge. A texture or a clatter. Altered.

He stumbled towards his door, open. Stubbed his toe with the corner of the wall. The darkness not the loathsome but familiar absolute, but a murky amorphous cavity. With no proportion or direction. There were no heartbeats though. No clamouring voices or sirens. So that was… good, he supposed.

He reached the living room, hearing Foggy shuffle in the kitchen. He could smell… eggs?

He stood beside the couch, not feeling confident enough to navigate the furniture. He wondered where Karen was. He remembered her sitting beside him the previous night. His rock amidst the sea of confusion. His doctor had relented to give him a fresh prescription for the night since he wouldn’t take the old ones that were tampered with. Foggy had let him throw and flush the drugs in the toilet and let him open the new sealed container that he’d collected from the pharmacy. He had been frustratingly out of his personal space. Gentle but distant.

And he’d broke. The dead woman. The girl with the bruised wrists. The man on the roof. Listening. Bugging the office and replacing his meds. And Foggy had been so upset. He’d tried listening to his heart but all he’d heard was purple swirls. Swishing above his head. The sweet smelling rot and sulphur. He needed to find the man. The man with the street drugs. Matt.

He’d have to confront Karen too. About the gunpowder. Maybe she ki- no. No. Not Karen. She would never hurt anyone even if they deserved it. But what about the phone calls? Why did her breath shake? Her bracelets rattling and hair sticking to her sweaty back. Who was she talking to? MATT.

And what was she hiding? Was she under duress? Was she passing on Matt’s information to someone who was threatening her? Hurting her. It would make sense. How the man had found out his house and his identity.

Burning pain in his palm. He yelped, flexing his hand away from the ice.

“Hey! Talk to me.”

He wiped his hand on his t-shirt, shaking his head, “Sorry, got distracted.”

“Yeah sure… for ten minutes.” Foggy muttered, pushing a warm plate into his stomach. “Come on, eat this.”

Matt went around the couch and sat, the back of his knees feeling stiff. He could sense Foggy’s dark mood. So he ate first. Finishing up and placing the plate down on the coffee table carefully.

“Foggy, we need to talk to Karen.” He said, deciding not to beat around the bush.

Foggy sighed. He didn’t answer even after Matt waited for half a minute.

“Foggy?” There was another sigh.

“Do you remember what happened last night? Do you remember being on the roof and then I brought you to your apartment? Karen?”

Yes, he did. His senses went haywire sometimes. But the good news was that Foggy now knew. About the bugged office, the drugs and the man on the roof. But his friend didn’t seem to see it the same way.

“You don’t need to worry, Foggy. I can handle it and I can keep Karen safe. We’ll be okay. I promise we will.” He said gently, sensing the anxiety radiating out of Foggy.

“Ofcourse. Of course it’s me and Karen you’re worried about…” he sounded muffled and resigned, “ _Jesus Matt._ ”

Matt surged forward without thinking as Foggy’s voice broke at the end.

He reached in front of Foggy and encountered his bowed head at his waist. He carefully stroked the soft hair. “Hey, hey… I’m sorry. I won’t stop the meds again. I should have told you. I’m so sorry.”

But Foggy just hunched over more, face buried in his hands. It was strange to see him trying to hide when he usually expressed his emotions with such pride and honesty. Matt kept a hand over his back. With the other he swept the hair back from his face. He could feel the strands, wet and warm. Foggy’s body trembling and his breath hiccupping. _Oh,_ _Foggy_.

His eyes filled up sympathetically as Foggy didn’t seem to get himself under control. He’d never seen Foggy this shattered. Foggy had always been his north, his shore, his family, his everything. When Matt had curled up and designed to leave the world outside; this nobody, this stranger and taken up the oars. Made Matt his own. And his hands had never shook. His affection had never been hesitant. His words had never been anything less than the absolute truth.

And now he was clutching at Matt like he’d lost something. Like the world had ended.

Matt clutched right back, confused and more alone than ever.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Matt kept the book back on the desk. It was no use. He couldn’t concentrate on the words for more than a minute. His fingers felt swollen and useless. Even the audio books were of no help. The sounds started to become garbled after a while. Well, that’s what he told Karen who’d brought them to keep him entertained. The truth was that he still had a hard time with voices. Voices that no one else heard. It seemed best not to push his fragile hold on reality.

The meds had been awful. The first few days he had been mostly in his bed. Somehow managed to sit up while Foggy or Karen were around. But dazed and sedated for the most part. The sedation was not too bad now. But his body was still adjusting. Talking was hard. Eating was hard. Walking was more trouble than worth.

The hallucinations were gone though. But the delusions were harder to shake off. It was only the previous day, he’d made his case to Foggy again with a new insight. _Delusional_ insight.

That he wasn’t crazy. That a man with psychic powers had done something to him. It wasn’t the drugs after all. And if Foggy could just explain to his doctor, that he needed to apprehend that guy… to fix himself. It would cure him. Mend the altered reality.

He’d pleaded. Begged.

Had crumbled at his friend’s feet in misery and terror. And had been relegated back to the acute care room. They hadn’t sedated him though, just confined him to that room. So, small blessings. He wanted to laugh at the utter crazy his yesterday’s self was. He would laugh too if everything didn’t hurt so much.

“Good afternoon Mr. Murdock.” He smiled wanly at the stout woman.

“I’ve told you Anushka, it’s Matt.”

“Well Matt, I heard that you didn’t have your lunch today.” The rebuke softened with her warm smile.

“I see your friends have left you things to munch on.” She shook the packet of crackers, “Is it the nausea?”

“Yeah, a bit. Mostly no appetite. I would force myself but…” he shrugged, uncomfortable.

“Doing too many things that you don’t feel like, already?” the kindly nurse asked.

“Yeah. That, maybe.” He let her finish taking his vitals.

“You’ll have Claire coming by sometime today. She’s a community nurse and specially takes care of the outpatients from this unit. You can inform your friends if you want them present. She’ll discuss home-care and follow up.”

“Alright, I will. Thank you.”

“Take care Matt. And eat something!”

Matt took out a cracker and just contemplated it for a moment. He nibbled at it for a solid 15 minutes and then started out on the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Foggy rushed in, the room was quiet and still.

He’d gotten late trying to pack some things for Matt to wear and then the traffic had slowed him down. He kept the duffel at the foot end of the bed and sat down. Matt was dozing in the other chair. He was a light sleeper usually but the exhaustion and medications kept him from waking now.

Foggy took the time to look at him without feeling awkward. He’d lost only a little weight but his face still looked very gaunt. Chalky and hollow. Like every ounce of vitality had been sucked away from him.

It had been 3 weeks since he got hospitalised. The delusions were gone completely. Insight was back and it had been a doubly painful when he’d realised (again) that he was actually sick and still had the psychotic symptoms to deal with. It had been painful for all of them.The hallucinations were gone too. And Matt just had to be the special snowflake who experienced gustatory and olfactory hallucinations in addition to voices, to the extent that he did. With blindness and pre-existing problems with sensory perception, it been quite a struggle for his team of healthcare providers.

It wasn’t that everything was bad and gloomy though. The new drug, risperidone was working well. And eating was back on the table, so 'yay' on that. And apparently he was well enough to go home.

Foggy didn’t know how to feel about that. Matt despised hospitals and would definitely be more comfortable at home. But he was still depressed, the antidepressants were taking their own sweet time. And while with Marci on board, they were no longer on shoe string budget… health care costs were still a lot. Even with insurance. Even with them being lawyers and finding each loophole and extending each leniency. So Matt probably needed the intensive monitoring and in-patient therapy for a little longer. But here he was, done with all the discharge paperwork and waiting for Matt.

He wanted the peace a little longer. Just a minute to breathe without thinking. And Matt could use the sleep anyway. So he just sat there. And waited.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Maaaaatt.”

Matt groaned from where he was slumped on the couch. The ride back home had exhausted him.

“Whaaaaat.”

“Don’t sleep. All this hot food I’m slaving over cannot be wasted, you hear me? Stay awake.” Foggy yelled back from the kitchen.

“I’m awake, jerk.” He pushed his head in between the soft cushion and the back of the couch. His head ached and everything was mild and soft.

 

 

He woke up to Foggy poking him at his side.

“I’m awake…m’awake.” He mumbled, wiping the drool away as he tried to sit up.

“Liar. Now, behold this magnificence.” He inhaled the olive oil and paprika and cheese as Foggy handed him a plate.

“Smells great Foggy.” he dug in and finished seconds before he could think to realise how famished he’d been. Well, hello appetite.

“So… about that brilliant idea of yours.”

“What? You’re not angry anymore?”

“Just covering it under a thin, _very_ thin mind you, veneer of patience and understanding. Don’t push it. I mean, what the hell Murdock? You really think I’d go for that?”

Matt groaned inwardly, he knew he was right. That’s the thing. But he couldn’t really order his thoughts enough to make a logical argument. And that too against Foggy. Under all that soft fuzzy goodness lay a brutally brilliant mind.

“You should though. I can’t be in your house like an invalid. You can’t keep babysitting me. You’re not my nurse-”

“I totally rock the sexy nurse’s costume though. Remember Halloween 2011? But I digress… I make a great nurse and you’re not a burden Matt. You’re not. I can’t let you rot away in some dingy room where they feed you porridge every day.”

“First of all, we are no longer in the 20th century. They don't lock up and torture mental health patients any more. And secondly. Secondly… how many times was this Foggy? That I had to be hospitalised?”

“Three.” Came Foggy’s stony answer. Dejected.

"That's right," Matt softened his tone, "...three. And that makes it a trend, Foggy. Two was... two was doable. Having to leave L & Z because of me was… okay that was pretty bad too. But it happened and you covered both our asses. I don’t know _how_ but you did. But something’s gotta give man. I can get you hurt. Hurt others or myself. And we have precedent for that.”

"Nope. No way. I’m not doing this. I’m done listening. This conversation is over.” Foggy got up abruptly, voice thick and wet.

Matt grasped his wrist and tugged, “Wait, wait…hey Foggy. Foggy. Stay with me.” He babbles, pulling himself up by Foggy’s arm and drawing him into a hug.

“I’m trying to, you dumbfuck. Summa cum laude my ass.” He gasps out, digging his face into Matt’s shoulder.

Matt snorts and wipes his nose, “Yeah, yeah I know. If you had only taken a fewer nights off, you could be too.”

“Shut up Matt.” he grumbles, holding him tighter.

“Okay.” He laughs, nodding unsteadily, “Okay.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> R_Gunns you're a terrific writer and I'm honestly embarrassed to gift this to you. I deviated somewhat from the prompt. I had so many scenarios and ideas in my head but putting it down in writing turned out to be something else entirely. I really hope you enjoy it though. Happy Holidays!
> 
> It's an amazing premise. I might give it another try with a different spin later. Maybe better authors on the fandom can do it justice- I would absolutely read a dozen Daredevil fics on this topic. 
> 
> Oh, and Matt has schizoaffective disorder if it wasn't clear enough. His daredevil persona is part of his delusion. And his heightened senses are at par with regular blind people.


End file.
